


would never call it love

by impossible_rat_babies



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Other, POV Third Person, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, its explicit folks i dunno how much you're asking for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossible_rat_babies/pseuds/impossible_rat_babies
Summary: It’ll leave a mark for sure, but he isn’t bothered by it; another one added to all the others from last night. And the day before. It’s nice this time, Ortega placing bunches of whispering kisses, murmuring against his skin to coax him from drowsy and half asleep to alert and aware.
Relationships: Ortega & Sidestep (Fallen Hero), Ortega/Sidestep (Fallen Hero), Ricardo Ortega/Sidestep, nb!Sidestep/Ortega (Fallen Hero)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	would never call it love

**Author's Note:**

> it's just some morning sex fic prompt from ages ago that i reworked and now we're here. fun times folks

Sunshine bright across Pollux’s eyes and he groans loudly, burying himself deeper into the pillows, hiding his face from the onslaught. The curtains just barely shut, a thin stream of light hitting just right across his closed eyes.

Should’ve had Ortega check the blinds and curtains last night, made sure they were shut all the way. Or rather check them this morning; Pollux can't remember when he finally stumbled into bed last night, but he’s still tired and it’s far too early for the sun to be this bright. Such is the curse of Los Diablos in the middle of the summer. Even with the AC on high, they’re both still reduced to just tank tops and underwear to battle the heat, the city baking alive under the incessant sun of the hot season, not a single rain cloud in sight. It doesn’t help that Ortega’s chest is pressed against his back and his arm is wrapped around him, sufficiently holding him close despite how bloody hot it is sitting like this.

It’s not utterly unbearable with the overhead fan on, or the convenient vent angled just right to hit him in the back of the neck, keeping the sweat away. It’s mainly just an annoyance since he wakes up sticking to Ortega and it’s hardly fun peeling skin from skin. Plus he just likes complaining about it.

But now he’s hardly complaining, not with the gentle kisses Ortega presses against his neck and shoulders. His hand slowly creeping up his stomach, fingers brushing along the curve of his breast and gently pinching his nipple through his shirt. Just the faintest pinch—not enough to hurt, just to roll his stomach.

Pollux licks his lips and his hand finds Ortega’s arm, running down the length of his forearm before gently gripping his wrist. He sucks on his neck sharp and Pollux pulls in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut again.

It’ll leave a mark for sure, but he isn’t bothered by it; another one added to all the others from last night. And the day before. It’s nice this time, Ortega placing bunches of whispering kisses, murmuring against his skin to coax him from drowsy and half asleep to alert and aware.

It’s Ortega’s fault—or plan in any case—when his kisses grow harsher, tongue and lips sucking marks on his skin. His hand wanders down his chest, across the curve of his rib cage, thumbing at the hem of Pollux’s shirt.

But Pollux knows it’s his fault that he’s getting worked up over it, just a few kisses and a hand on his skin turning his stomach into a mess of butterflies. 

His fingers slip past his shirt and trace up and along the curves of his stomach, finding their way up to his breast.

“Good morning to you too…” Pollux mumbles and Ortega presses a smile into his skin, cupping his breast and running his thumb across his nipple.

“Hey…” Ortega murmurs back and Pollux snorts, rolling his eyes at the half assed greeting.

“Have your hands full already?” Pollux chuckles softly, hand still lightly clutching Ortega’s arm, hardly stopping him from turning his nipple between his fingers and he hums, biting his lip.

“Not much of a handful to be honest.” Pollux snorts and Ortega laughs against his shoulder, shaking his head at his own joke.

His hand abandons his breast and finds its way down to the swell of Pollux’s hip, playing with the elastic on his shorts, fingertips sending little shocks across his skin—or maybe Pollux is imaging it. All of the touches collecting in a steady buzz beneath his skin, a faint pleasurable hum and he wants to squeeze his thighs together. He shudders when Ortega’s hand slips down to press his palm against the front of his underwear.

“This is more of a handful.” Ortega mumbles in his ear and Pollux rolls his eyes and scoffs. How he somehow made that sound like more than just a crappy joke and that he’s actually blushing over it is beyond him.

Pollux wiggles as Ortega’s fingers curl further down, easily finding and teasing his swelling clit already hard and pressing against the front of his panties, material rough against the sensitive skin.

Pollux’s breath catches, a whine falling from his mouth. He bites his lip, keeping the rest of the bubbling sounds down. He isn’t that needy yet.

He knows Ortega doesn’t mind, probably taking a bit too much joy in how Pollux tempers his sounds to try and hide how he’s already melting back against him, letting him work. Drawing little circles around his clit, nonsense shapes and it doesn’t matter save for how it feels. The steady growing need between his legs, toes already curling.

It’s both delightful and awful how Ortega pulls him along, works him up until he’ll be left gripping the sheet, snatch Ortega’s hand and keep him working, chase the steady blooming pleasure in his hips into something deeper. This is just playing, feather light touches and it’s just teasing is what it is—he’s not that desperate yet after a few well placed touches.

This isn’t how he expected the morning to go. He’s not going to complain however, that’s for certain.

Pollux knows that smirk against his neck, fingers pressing against him enough to feel the faint wet already soaking through his thin panties and shorts, dragging his fingers slowly back up to his clit. Pollux holds back on another whine, resisting the urge to roll against his fingers.

Ortega tugs at the inside of his leg, pulling his knee up and over his thigh. Pollux’s legs fall open and his hand slides back down the slope of the inside of his thigh, back to cupping him through his underwear, fingers pressing deeper, harder.

“Much easier now…” Ortega mumbles and Pollux curses at him. There’s chuckle and oh he could reach back and pinch that man for all he’s worth. Which isn’t much since Pollux doesn’t, his breath catching his words, melting them into a whimper. Ortega’s fingers find his clit again, tracing barely there circles, but enough for him to want to squeeze his thighs together again, looking for more.

“Alright?” Ortega asks, always insufferably smug and he wants to laugh, but another sound escapes his lips instead.

“Shut up…” Pollux’s voice raises in pitch and it’s hard to focus on being an ass when his fingers are pressing against him just right, stroking his clit, breath stuttering. Ortega kisses his neck again, his hand moving quicker, no longer teasing, long deep slow strokes moving from his clit to further down, deeper still. Playing with his clit, gently squeezing and rolling his fingers against it. Over and over again, each time leaving shuddered breaths and the need for more.

Pollux curses his name and he smirks again, kisses sliding down to his shoulder, slow and agonizing. His hand stalls and Pollux whines, wiggling his hips.

“Ricardo…” Pollux groans and Ortega chuckles.

“Be patient, will you?” He whispers in his ear and Pollux rolls his eyes. Ortega always wants to take the time to savor him like he won’t get a taste of him again.

And maybe one day he won’t. 

Pollux pushes that thought away sharply, fixing his mind on how this feels, how Ortega feels pressed against him now—in this moment. How he’s aching and jittery—wanting his fingers actually on him rather than just through his shorts.

He barely brushes his finger along his swollen clit, smirk pressed against his shoulder. That’s most certainly not what he wants.

Asshole.

“Ricardo come on...” Pollux huffs his name again and he snickers.

“Hush, Pollux…”

He doesn’t get a chance to curse at him again, not as Ortega’s hand slides past the hem of his underwear and finds his clit once more, thumb brushing across the head of it.

Pollux shudders and a low moan falls from his mouth. His thumb traces circles around his clit from the small base to the head, long fingers slipping further down, slick already coating his fingers and he draws his fingers back up to his clit.

Another groan falls out of Pollux’s mouth as a finger slides into him, pressing in deep and another one follows, Ortega’s palm pressing against his twitching clit. His slick is already all over his hand as pulls his fingers out and they easily slip back in, palm rocking against his clit.

The slow steady pace leaves Pollux gasping, save for the moans coming out his mouth and each shiver that races down his spine and into his toes. Long fingers dipping in, stretching him out perfectly, curling, pulling back out with a delightfully wet sound and Pollux whimpers. His palm brushing his clit, hand adjusting so his thumb can do the work there and Pollux actually moans, back arching. Heat building in his gut and he’s breathing deep rather than hard, his hips rolling against his hand, fingers bunching in his shirt.

There’s a third finger and Pollux sucks in a sharp breath, teetering too close to the edge and he grabs Ortega’s wrist stop him. Just a moment to catch his breath, adjust to the feeling because he doesn’t want to lose himself so quickly—not just yet. Ortega teasingly brushes his thumb down the small length of his clit and Pollux swallows once, twice; take a deep breath despite his hand. Ortega hums a quiet question and Pollux nods, eventually loosening his hold on his wrist, smoothing his hand up to rest against his stomach.

Ortega begins again, pressing his fingers in deep and the sensation swells in his stomach and he moans. Pollux moves against his fingers and he clenches sharp when Ortega’s other hand finds his clit, taking it between his fingers. He curses as he strokes him, softly squeezing and taunting, pressing hard in time with his fingers pumping in and out of him.

Pollux’s thighs are tensing, trembling and he arches, hand sliding into Ortega’s hair, fingers scratching his scalp. Ortega presses in deep and quick, a muffled moan of his own against his shoulder.

He does it again and a small thought crosses Pollux’s already addled mind when he once again moans and his fingers press in sharp and deep. He tugs at Ortega’s hair again and there are teeth on his neck, palm pressing hard against his clit, fingers quicker and more urgent in fucking him.

Oh.

Pollux’s hand slides back to the hair at the back of his skull and he tugs sharp, Ortega’s voice clearer that time: a deep low moan. Pollux’s eyes close as he works him deeper and faster, fingers tugging sharper and—

_ Oh _ .

“You like it when I pull your hair?” Pollux asks all of a sudden, voice breathless. He swallows down the growing urgency to keep going—what’s happening with Ortega is far more interesting. He pulls his hair again for good measure so he knows and just as expected little curses fall from Ortega’s lips and he tenses.

“Think you already know the answer to that question.” He admits with a brief chuckle and Pollux grins. He arches hips back, noticing his cock now twitching, pressing firm and hot against the curve of his ass. Now he knows exactly how much he likes that and Pollux files that away in his memories for later

“You like it when I do that too?” He asks and Ortega nods, Pollux’s hand finding its way between them, finding his cock and he runs his fingers over the curve of it. He takes him in his hands, giving him a few short pumps and Ortega groans in his ear with each one. A delightful rumble that runs over Pollux’s skin, goosebumps prickling his skin.

It’s almost funny how easily it is to undo him with the same sort of touches, have him cursing just the same. Learning this new part of putting themselves together.

“Hey, hey…” Pollux whispers, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, meeting his eyes. Brown eyes blown wide, the want in them enough to dry Pollux’s mouth. “Roll over on your back.”

Ortega gives him a questioning look and Pollux rolls his eyes.

“You’ll like it, promise.” Pollux smiles and Ortega sighs, pulling away and he flops onto his back, quickly fluffing the pillow he stuffs under his head

Pollux slips his underwear off, biting his lip and he watches Ortega watching him, panties lost in the sheets somewhere, tossed away as he straddles his hips. He easily slides Ortega’s briefs down, leaving him to kick them off the rest of the way, forgotten. Pollux is already busy, his hands on Ortega’s cock. He doesn’t hesitate to run his fingers from base to tip, thumb brushing over the head, collecting the thin slick already leaking out, sticky. Relishing in the sound he makes as he fingers slide back down, squeezing. Pollux shivers and rolls his shoulders, licking his hand for good measure and he takes Ortega’s cock in his hands again, working him steadily and slowly—savoring.

He watches Ortega from above, seeing the twists of his face and the flush spreading across his skin in the warm light. Hand gripping the pillow, lips parted and his sounds soaking the air around them, setting Pollux’s skin alight. God he looks perfect and Pollux bites his lip, holding back a groan.

He’d really, really like to have him in his mouth instead, feel his cock pressing against his tongue and deeper still, slick and spit dripping from his lips, listening to Ortega moan as he fucks his mouth. He almost does, biting his lip, debating on how easily it would be to just...slide down his body and taste him.

How later he could get him between his own thighs just the same, try out that new thing he just learned.

“Pollux…” Ortega groans, Pollux feeling his thighs tensing and he gives his cock a few more long strokes for good measure. He still wants to be above him, watch him and he can be worse than just his hands.

He pauses to adjust, scooting up to better straddle his hips, the length of his cock pressing right against Pollux and the head pressing against his clit. He rests his hands against Ortega’s chest, heart thundering against his palms and he slides himself along his cock, rocking his hips, grinding against him from base to tip.

It’s more than just the heat of summer that is getting to him now, sweat dampening his thin white tank top as it sticks to his skin.

“Mierda…”

Ortega actually whimpers–a small needy sound in the back of his throat–and Pollux smirks, eyes following his down. He knows what he’s watching and it must be an even better sight for him, watching Pollux rub himself along his cock. It’s already just as bad for him—the sensation enough and he closes his eyes. He’s aching, wishing, needing to take him and take him deep; he’s quivering just at the thought, clenching around nothing. Grinding against him, hands cupping his chest and he bites his lip hard, upping his pace.

“Pollux…”

“What?” He teases gently, leaning over Ortega and fuck he’s grinding right on his clit oh that draws a long moan from his mouth, breath fluttering, toes curling. Fuck.

“You’re going to keep doing this until I cum?” It’s the closest to begging he’s heard from him, especially in that needy tone, and Pollux snickers, licking his lips.

“You want me that badly?” He whispers and Ortega nods, flushed from his face down to his chest, sweat making his skin glow. 

“You wanna fuck me? Like you did last night?” He grins and he feels Ortega’s cock twitching, seeing him grinding his teeth through his cheeks. Pollux remembers one of these pillows being shoved under his hips before Ortega had grabbed him instead, hand on his hip and the other on his ass, fucking him senseless and oh he bites his lip now, still remembering.

He wants that again—over and over again—but maybe instead he’ll keep this up, sliding and grinding along his cock. Rocking his hips desperately until Ortega loses himself, spilling all over his stomach. He’d lick every bit and maybe he’d take him in his mouth after that and suck on his cock until he couldn’t take it and then some just for fun. The thought leaves Pollux biting his lip, clenching and shivering.

“Pollux, I really, really wanna to fuck you. However you want.” Ortega says and Pollux slows, searching his face. He makes a compelling argument, and Pollux would rather have him inside of him—all of him. Feeling all of him, watching his face.

“However I want?” He asks, a raise of the brow and a faint smile turning his lips.

“Yes. However you want ‘lux.”

He’s always letting him control things, setting the pace. Making sure he’s getting what he wants and Pollux wants to do the same—he wants to each and every time they do this like a desperate thirst. He’s selfish and greedy, he knows it because of how much he wants this, but he won’t take what isn’t offered. Not here, never here.

Pollux leans over him and kisses him—just barely a peck and it’s practically juvenile compared to how they’re pressed together, almost chest to chest. Pollux pulls away, tugging on his lip with his teeth, but Ortega quickly yanks him back in and that kiss is much more like it, all heat and need, tongue and urgency, desperate to feel more.

Always more, more, more—like a roar trapped beneath his ribs. A hungry need he can’t fill and Ortega keeps giving him more.

“God you’re handsome…” Ortega mumbles as he pulls away breathless and Pollux snickers, a different sort of heat flaring in his chest. A mix he doesn’t know if he likes, the roll of it volleying between comfort and unease.

“Speak for yourself…” Pollux says and it’s so hard to pull himself away, to not kiss him into oblivion and further still, but he does. He meets Ortega’s eyes and he almost smells the ozone, the truth behind those deep brown eyes. He means every single syllable of what he’s saying and it’s enough to get lost in, enough to make him forget for a little while. Maybe believe in something—someone.

“You know you’d look better if—“

“So impatient…” Pollux clicks his tongue and he sits up better. Scrambling over top of him for a second for the beside table and it’s unceremonious as he pulls open the condom. Not like it’s needed, but Pollux doesn’t want to think about that right now—not in bed, not as he crawls back over him and the smile Ortega gives him is dazzling.

Adjusting once more, he holds Ortega steady. Breath in and back out...just a moment before he relaxes and sinks down onto his cock. His breath catches once, twice, three times and his hands clench into fists, pressing against Ortega’s chest. His hands find his and rest over top, fingers brushing small circles over his skin, little meaningless nothings lost to his ears.

He’s done this many times, but it still takes him a moment to find the best way, breath catching in his chest, heart pounding in his ears.

Ortega’s hands find his thighs, thumbs brushing across the backs of his knees and trail up thighs and oh that’s funny how that’s the most intimate thing that’s happened so far, senses turned up to eleven. Soft reassuring touches and Pollux’s head falls back, biting his lip.

He shifts and angles his hips just right, sliding down and taking in all of him until he’s flush and he can’t help the faint strained chuckle. That’s new and it’s leaving him quivering, trembling all over, nerves in chaos.

“Fuck…” Pollux laughs, splaying his hands out across Ortega‘s chest, feeling his chest quickly rising and falling. He manages a faint laugh too, hands sliding around to cup Pollux’s ass. 

“Alright?” He asks just as breathlessly and Pollux nods quickly, licking his lip.

“Y-Yeah...Fantastic. Haven’t managed that before on top of you.” He laughs again. “Fuck you’re big…” Pollux doesn’t care how that definitely strokes his ego, or the quiet pleased laugh he certainly hears, because it feels really, really good.

He opens his eyes and stares down at Ortega, searching his face and oh it’s just as bad for him. The little twitch in his jaw, the hungry, desperate look in his eyes he’s seen so many times before.

“Alright there?” Pollux asks in return and Ortega faintly laughs, almost incredulously.

“Good—great. Fuck ‘lux you’re tight…” He groans out those last words and there’s a swell of pride in Pollux’s chest.

“Don’t jump the gun, lover boy.” Pollux teases, wiggling his hips a bit to adjust and it sends another cascade of pleasure down his body.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ortega half chuckles, grip tightening on Pollux’s ass, holding him as he steadily lifts himself and sinks back down.

Pollux groans, eyes fluttering shut and he takes it slow, sinking down and pulling himself up. Ortega’s hands wander over his hips and thighs, holding him close, helping him—the both of them losing themselves in each other.

Ortega finding and losing himself again and again in the sloping arch of Pollux’s back as he shifts and moves with each thrust, pressing his fingers against his spine, his hipbones, yanking him in closer, tighter. The sounds that come unbidden from Pollux’s mouth, Ortega’s name on his lips, eyes half opening to stare down at him, watching how lovely Ortega looks like this.

Each time he tenses as Pollux takes him fully, nails digging into his chest, leaving little half moons behind. His brows pulled in tight, how he urges with each thrust for faster, deeper, his name a curse and a praise on his lips.

Pollux obliges, hands running up to Ortega’s neck, crooked fingers in his hair as he slumps forward, forehead to forehead, letting him take over. Sharing panted breaths and Pollux gasps as he sets a fast pace, the world engulfed by this moment and for once it all feels perfect when nothing has ever been perfect.

Nothing has ever been perfect for either of them—it couldn’t be, not with who they are—but it feels damn close when they share the bed like this, sunlight scattering through the narrow slit in the curtains, just a strip of light to set them ablaze. Share their bodies like this, pressed together, Pollux digging his fingers in the hair at the back of Ortega’s neck because god he’s fucking him and he can’t think of anything else.

Share each little messy piece with each other and yes it’s sex in the best way possible, but...god it feels like love too.

Hot and needy kisses, tongue and teeth pulling lower lips, frantic breaths, kissing jawlines and Ortega’s kissing down the curve of his neck. His pulse is racing, teeth grazing his skin, nipping and sucking hard and oh there will be marks all over his skin—the good sorts of marks, the sorts he likes.

Sensations turning bright, sharp—urgent and he can’t help his voice running from his lips; the growing heat in his stomach even as Ortega shifts, short and shallow thrusts and Pollux almost melts.

He sits back, bleary eyed and his hands find Ortega’s, linking them together and he rests his weight against him. Ortega’s shaking too beneath him, meeting his eyes and Pollux can’t look away. Not as he ups his pace again and the world is too bright, eyes squinting shut.

“Close?” Ortega groans and Pollux quickly nods, gripping his hands tightly, his senses alight and vibrant behind his eyes, a hair’s breath away.

“Don’t stop..!” Pollux whimpers, desperately grinding back against his thrusts, voice rising until it’s cut off, thighs shaking and clenching.

Ortega lets go of his hands to grab his hips, yank him in and hold him just right, desperation in his own movements. Pollux knows he’s just as close, needing this—needing him.

“Cum for me Pollux…” Ortega grinds out and it’s all too much.

He comes undone with a weak gasp, large wracking shudders running through his body. Toes curling and his legs stutter and twitch, losing himself in a moment.

He dimly hears Ortega cursing and his sharp grip on his hips only makes it worse, his pace turning frantic and needy and there’s that long low groan Pollux knows so well. He feels him throbbing inside, warmth spreading out as that glow settles over both of them.

There’s just the sound of them both struggling to breathe, Ortega’s chest still heaving as Pollux pulls his eyes open. He stares down at him, chest heaving, light scattering beautifully across him, hair scattered across his forehead and the pillow under his head. He’s still bleary, hands languidly running from his hips down to his thighs, thumbing a scar Pollux is too dazed to remember.

“Round two?” Pollux teases and Ortega waved his hand, his eyes sliding open to look up at him.

“You wish…” He teases right on back and they both laugh, a warm smile settling over Pollux’s face. Ortega’s hand find his once more and he brings it to his lips, kissing across his palm and down his wrist, gentle with the scars he finds. Lips barely a brush, like anymore will be too much and it just might be if it were any other time but now—here.

But not right now, not when he can’t help but softly laugh, a smile turning the corners of his lips and Ortega’s looking up at him, a smile more in his eyes than on his lips, the kisses continuing. Pollux knows he could kiss every inch of him and never get enough and he believes in that here—in this quiet moment.

He likes the way he feels here, bodies spent and pressed together, before the real world comes back and all the broken shards try to pull themselves together, broken biting angry shards digging in under his skin. Shards that cut Ortega, ones that will hurt—leave their marks behind. He keeps his eyes on his face, not wanting to go looking, find the scars he couldn’t save him from, or the ones he put there himself.

Not here, not right now. Not in this moment measured by breaths, by heartbeats still rattling in his ears.

“I love you…” 

Ortega whispers against his wrist, eyes darting up to meet his and the edges of Pollux’s eyes sting. He quickly blinks it away before Ortega says something and reaches. Brushing a strand of hair from off Ortega's sweaty forehead, his fingers linger, slipping down his temple to the curve of his cheekbone.

He’s too sweet, too good for him, trying to hug all the broken shards of him—put him back together again as if it’s that simple. Too many pieces have been lost and there’s no easy way to make new ones—make new shapes fit into the old.

If it hurts, he doesn’t say and Pollux lets him be for now. Holds his gaze, looking at his deep brown eyes and oh the things he’d do for him. The words he’d say if he could, picturing them, holding them on his tongue and lips, tasting them.

“I need a shower.” 

Ortega breaks into a laugh, pulling Pollux close and he kisses his temple, nuzzling his nose against his cheek.

He tucks those other words away, filing them amongst the dozens and dozens of other times he’s held them like that. He kisses him soft and long and Pollux returns it twice over.

“Come on then—lets get cleaned up.”

Ortega doesn’t say anything about it, pressing a kiss to his jaw, the corner of his lips and he helps him off carefully. Nothing strings or feels like it got pulled and it’s a terrible reality to have to worry about pulling a muscle while having sex.

Pollux watches him, wonders if he keeps track of the almosts—those long pauses where he won’t say those words back. If every time that happens, he knows the silence means more than just that—silence. That other words fill the gaps, take the place of things he won’t say just yet. Or if the quiet says all he needs to say—saying things without speaking.

Ortega glances at him over his shoulder, raising a brow and Pollux rolls his eyes, clambering out of the bed before he’s chastised.

Words or not—they’re enough for now. 


End file.
